Icelight
by Windsong
Summary: Discontinued. Set after the anime's ending. For the first time, a non possessed human attacks the kaitou. Can they save her? More importantly, can they save themselves?
1. Chapter 1

Welcome to Icelight, Version 2.0! -sweatdrop- My best friend MaraJadeblu recommended that I reformat this fic and juggle the chapters into a different order, and I took her advice. Not like you'd really care, but...well, anyways.

I suddenly noticed that there were nearly no KKJ fics out there. So I decided to write one. Anyways, I've had this character rattling around my brain for about two years, so I decided I might as well use her for something. So here goes nothing...

Disclaimers—I don't own Kamikaze Kaitou Jeanne or any characters. They're owned by whoever owns them—I don't remember who at the moment. However, new stuff and characters are mine. So don't steal or I'll have to hunt you down and, um, do evil things. -bright grin-

_Italics _are thoughts.  
Anou: "Um..."  
Mou: Something you say when you're exasperated; like "Jeez!"  
Oyasumi: "Sweet dreams"  
Itai: "Ow"

Enjoy!

* * *

Icelight  
**Chapter One**  
_By Windsong  
_Written 4 May 2003

Chiaki looked over at Maron again. She looked forward anxiously, her hands twisting into her dress. She was well-dressed for the occasion, and had even gone so far as to wear jewelry and makeup. _I guess she wants to make a good impression._

Maron caught his gaze and gave him a shaky smile. He reached over to grab one of her hands and gently massage the tension away from her fingers. "You're nervous."

Miyako crossed her arms. "Wouldn't you be?" She huffed impatiently.

"Well, yes, but—"

"Then don't—"

"Miyako, it's okay," Maron said soothingly. The detective grumbled a little but sat back further in her seat.

Without warning, Maron asked him, "What if—it wasn't just the demons? What if they really don't care about me..."

Chiaki smiled at her. "There's a quote I heard once. 'All parents love their children.' Don't worry. They wouldn't have come all the way here if they didn't love you, right?"

"Now arriving, TokyoAir flight 273 at Terminal 5," a voice said over the sound system.

"That's them!" Miyako cried excitedly, jumping up and half-dragging Maron in her rush, leaving Chiaki to run after them.

More and more people appeared. At each Maron would stiffen with anticipation, then slump a little when she realized it wasn't them. Her brown eyes looked more and more disappointed as more people came out of the dark tunnel that connected the plane to the terminal, until the flow had slowed to a crawl and nearly stopped.

"I—guess they didin't come after all," she said softly. "It's okay, they were probably busy or something, and—" her voice cracked, and she looked down as Chikai reached for her. "It's okay," she whispered, as if to herself. She didn't react to Chiaki's arms around her, or his voice whispering soothingly into her ear. "It's all right—"

Out of the tunnel stepped a not-so-young couple. Their faces had more wrinkles, and their hair a little more faded—the man's hair has started silvering, even. But they were nearly exactly the same as Maron's photograph, old and faded by age and secret tears.

She knew.

"Papa? Mama?" She said, her voice trembling a little. She sounded exactly like she had when they had left her.

The couple looked up at her voice and searched the crowd. "Maron?" the man asked. "Maron, is that you?"

"Where are you?" The woman called.

Chiaki let her go as she flew towards her parents. "Mama! Papa!" She cried as she nearly glomped them both. She held them, and she couldn't stop tears from falling. She had never even dared to hope that they would ever ever come back for her—yet here they were. It was true. They had come back. "I missed you," she sobbed, burying her face in a shirt. They held her tightly, as if trying to make up for all those years they had never hugged her never helped her never listened talked to cared loved in a single endless moment.

"Oh, my child, we missed you too," her mother murmured into her hair.

"We love you, Maron," her father said. "We're so sorry..."

"No, it's okay," she said, voice muffled by the shirt, laughing even though tears shone on her face. "It's all right."

"Oh, that's good," her father said in relief as her mother began to pull away from her.

"W-what? Why're you—"

"Dearest, this is only a connecting flight," her mother said, smiling at her. "We have to hurry if we want to catch the next plane..."

"Y-you're not...staying? Here?" _With me?_

"Oh, no," her father laughed. "Stay here? With you? Maron, we love you, but not _that_ much."

"We're going to be late—" her mother kissed her cheek, a light peck that gave nothing and demanded nothing. "It was nice seeing you, dear."

Her father patted her on the head, a hearty, patronizing smile on his face. "Nice seeing you, Maron-chan. We'll continue to send you money, okay?"

Her mother rested her hand on her husband's arm as they began to walk away. "Oh, don't feel bad, dear," she said gaily. "We'll visit you in a few years or so, if we have time. We're very busy people, you know. We found a little bit of time for you, and considering our schedules that really shows how much we love you! Do you know what some people would do to get the amount of time you had with us? In fact, it was lucky we were able to see you at all!" She waved, and they blended into the crowd, exactly like all the other couples hurring to catch their flight.

Maron stared after them even though she couldn't see them anymore. Then she crumpled to her knees.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry.

She wanted to curl up and die.

Fin's worried voice called out to her, "Maron! MARON!"

Tiny little fists beat her, stopped. Sudden water soaked her to the skin. Maron shot upright, coughing and crying. Her fingers trembled as she scraped her soaked bangs out of her eyes and wiped away her tears. She forced herself to stop crying, even though her shoulders shook from the effort and a headache threatened from the strain.

"Maron! Maron, what's wrong? Maron!" The small angel floated before her, distress clear on her features.

"Fin...what day is today?" Her voice sounded cold and nothing like herself, choked with tears she refused to shed and fragmented dreams that refused to leave.

"Anou...Tuesday, I think. Maron, are you okay?"

_Tuesday. They're coming on Saturday. It wasn't real. It's all right. It didn't happen...it's okay...they might still love me..._

"Just a bad dream," Maron whispered.

"Want to talk about it?"

_It didn't happen. It was only a dream. It didn't happen. They're coming in four days. Four more days. It wasn't real. It was only a dream. Not real._ Maron dredged up a smile from somewhere and pasted it on her face. "Not really. I"m already forgetting. I just need some air." She got to her feet shakily and walked out onto the balcony.

Maron looked out. If there was one thing she loved, it was the view. She usually focused on the people living out their lives as they walked down her street, but tonight, the heart of the city caught her eye. It glowed, sparkled like fireworks, glittered like a disco ball, shimmered like a mirage. She swore she could see each separate building, each individually outlined and accented by light and shadow alike—for the two worked togehter and complimented one another this night. But at the same time it looked so far away that it was just a gloriously bright blur. It gave her a feeling of unreality, a sense of dizziness as if she had spun too much, a sense of giddiness like she has looked over a too-tall cliff's edge. She fell in love with the city all over again.

Fin pouted as she followed her outside. "Mou, Maron, you're a terrible liar."

She clutched the railing, half-afraid she would fall into the city's brilliance, and chuckled at the angel's remark. "Am I really that transparent?"

"Clear as glass," a new voice laughingly replied. Maron jerked out of the spell the city had placed on her and looked to the right.

There was Chiaki, standing in profile, his blue hair artistically ruffled by the warm night wind and his face illuminated by the moon's weak light. He turned his gaze from the city and smiled at her.

"Chiaki!" Her voice was full of happy surprise and her face lit up with a smile.

"Ohayo, Maron," he replied.

"The sun hasn't risen yet," Fin protested.

"But it's morning," he countered. "Look—" he showed her his watch, which announced that it was 1:24 AM.

Fin just looked confused.

"Never mind," he sighed.

"What are you doing awake?" Maron asked.

"Enjoying the view. No, not that one!" He cried, waving his hands as Fin fluffed up in rage and looked ready to take him apart despite her small size. "The city, the city!"

Ignoring Fin, she continued, "Couldn't sleep?"

"Yeah. Bad dream?"

She nodded.

"Chi**a**ki," a sleepy voice moaned, "when're you going back to bed?" Access stuck his head outside. "Ooh, Fin-chan!" He zoomed towards her, suddenly awake. "How I've—"

She knocked him head-over-heels through the air. "Don't even THINK about it!"

"Chiaki," Maron asked abruptly, "Do all parents love their children?"

Fin broke off the glare she was giving Access and turned to her in surprise. "Of course!" she said instantly.

She ignored Fin for the moment, keeping her gaze fixed on Chiaki as his face settled into one of deep thought.

_She must have had a bad dream about her parents not loving her again,_ he reasoned, and felt a surge of sympathy for her. He wanted to protect her, but he couldn't, not from this. She would have to defeat this enemy with her own strength and on her own terms. But he could—and would—support her. And no matter what, she deserved the truth, so he thought a moment before giving his answer. "There are a lot of people who would answer no to your question," He began slowly. "There are a lot of parents who don't act like they do. They abuse and abandon their children. But I think that all parents do love their children. It might be just a little bit, and it might be hidden under drugs or alcohol or rage, or hate for something else. The parent may hate their husband or wife and associate the child with that hate. The parent might hate the circumstances they are in, and blame it on the child. And there are lots of other things that make parents act like they don't love their children. But underneath all that, all parents really do love their children. They might hate what they think the child represents, but they don't actually hate the child itself."

Her vision turned inwards at his answer. Chiaki was content to let her think, and turned back to the city. The quiet stayed for a long time. It was an easy, comfortable silence, one that rested quietly in the air instead of crawling down their spines and forcing them to say anything to chase it away.

Until finally a loud—and overly theatrical—yawn shattered it. "Chiaki, I don't know what's wrong with you, but I'm tired! Aren't you going to sleep?" Access whined.

Maron jerked, surprised out of her thoughts. "Well, we do have school tomorrow," she said with a small, tired smile. "I think I'm going back to bed. It's getting chilly out here anyway."

Chiaki stretched. "You're right. Oyasumi, Maron."

Maron smiled, blushing a little. _With _him_ to dream of, I'm sure they will be!_

They were almost inside when he heard Maron say softly, "Chiaki?"

He stopped to listen.

"Thanks."

He smiled. _I don't think she'll ever know truly how much I love her._ "Anytime," he replied easily.

- - - - -

After Maron hit her pillows the next thing she knew Miyako was banging on her door. "MARON! MARON, WE'RE GOING TO BE LATE—AGAIN! IF YOU DON'T COME OUT RIGHT NOW—"

"I'm up, Miyako, I'm up!" She yelled at the door, falling out of bed. She rushed around, skipped breakfast, left her hair loose, and put on her school uniform. Miyako scolded her all the way to the stairs, down the stairs, and out of the courtyard. Chiaki just laughed as he ran beside them.

"Ohayo, Maron," was all he said.

"Miyako, keep going, I have to tie my shoe," she yelled as she slowed down. Miyako grumbled something but kept running. Chiaki slowed, but she waved at him to go on. He looked at her one last time, shrugged, and ran to catch up with Miyako.

_Maybe talking with Chiaki _wasn't_ the smartest move I ever made,_ she thought. She felt utterly exhausted and her vision was slightly blurry. _He_ didn't seem at all fazed by staying up so late, though, and she felt a tiny twinge of irritation for no apparent reason. She finished tying her shoe and ran to catch up with Chiaki and Miyako.

With a small "oof!" of surprise she plowed headlong into someone. She looked up from where she had been sprawled on the floor, and rubbed her shoulder. "Itai..."

Then she froze.

Lavender eyes the lightest shade of purple she had ever seen looked down at her._Crystal purple..._ ran through her head illogically. Her vision, blurred as it was, registered nothing but lavender. She was held transfixed by their lucid gaze.

"Excuse me," said a disinterested voice, and then the person turned and continued walking, leaving Maron to pick herself up, dust herself off, and run again.

She shook her head. _Mou, that person was so rude!_

* * *

Chaaaaaaaapter One, people! I finished it! And WOW does my head hurt! Damnit, I should go to sleep, but I'm too hyper to care because I watched lots and lots of anime.

Are they OOC? I hope to God not...this is the first time I've ever written them, so I'm a little less comfortable with them than I am with other characters. Pleeeeeeease tell me whether they're OOC or not!

I know this chapter was seemingly random, but OCs and plot are coming shortly. And any and all grammar corruption (like lack of commas and periods) in this chapter are completely intentional. I MEANT to do that. I'm trying out a couple of new styles, and this chapter showcased simplification and abstraction. grins

Ja ne!

-Windsong - windsong 137 at gmail dot com

"Happiness is nothing more than good health and a bad memory." -Albert Schweitzer


	2. Chapter 2

Hey! Look! I'm back with the next chapter! -dances-

**Disclaimers:** Kamikaze Kaitou Jeanne is owned by a bunch of people. I am not one of those people. So don't sue me. I'm poor, I tell you! POOR! Anyways. Koori, Zan, Haruka, Shidori, Konzan, and anyone else that might pop up that's not in the original storyline are MINE. Do not use them without my express permission, in writing, no less.

There are footnotes strewn about the chapter. The explanations are at the end of the chapter.

Enjoy!

* * *

Icelight  
**Chapter Two**  
_By Windsong  
_Written 19 May 2004

The icy wind cackled in her face and blew numbing pellets into her throat. Blew the stench of death, blood, and fear, almost the same as the other scents but with a harsh metallic bite to it. Blood ran down her face as she kneeled in the corner, just—sitting there. She didn't cry. She didn't scream. Sat still and felt the ice sit, heavy and silent, in her lungs. It froze her. All she could do was watch.

The wind had howled as they blew in, giving them sound when they voiced none. Like a physical embodiment of the cruel storm screaming outside the windows, they burst into the sleeping room swift as wolves and fell upon them. Her father was shot before he could cry out. She watched his blood spatter across the wall. He jerked a few times, and lay still. Her mother's scream was stopped by six inches of steel going through her trachea. Her mother feebly clawed at her throat before one of them broke the woman's neck almost carelessly. The wind swept away the harsh crack that accompanied the action before it could reach her ears, keeping it for itself. Her mother's hands fell to her sides then, and her bloodstained fingers twitched a few times before she lay still.

Now they lay on the floor, their eyes open and unstaring, as the blood pooled around them. Her mother stared at her blankly, her neck at an unnatural angle. She stared back. Her eyes didn't see anything, either.

All she saw was the ice.

They crept up on her, steel glinting by silent moonlight beams. The wind quieted, eagerly waiting for this last killing. The ice brought her to her feet.

They stopped. The look in her eyes was exactly the same as the one their best had when they were on a job. Uncaring. Unfeeling. Indifferent. It was almost hypnotic. Here was a killer that would do their pack proud. She would take their sideline group and make it mainstream.

"Hey, kid, why don't you join up with us?" He slurred his words together, his voice rough but soft. She barely heard him through the wind, but his voice reflected off of the ice and magnified, a frozen echo. "There's nothing to hold you here. We won't do harm to you." He squinted as the wind hurled frozen pellets at him.

As if she didn't hear them, she walked towards her parents. As she kneeled by them, she took her mother's necklace. She took her father's sword.

When she stood, she stepped toward the men. The wind howled in rage as they swept her up and sped away, furious because it had been cheated out of her blood.

- - - - -

_I wonder what my name was. Before. It doesn't really matter anymore, though._ She looked at the blade she polished. _If Konzan could read minds, he'd beat me for letting my mind wander. Though if you listen to Shidori, he really can, and he's only waiting for the right moment to reveal all your deep dark secrets. But who listens to him anymore? He's drunk more often than not. _ She didn't bother smiling outwardly at her own wry non-humor. A smile was undeniable proof that you were laughing at some private joke, and privacy was forbidden.

Maybe that's why Haruka hated her. Well, actually, he hated her, admired her, envied her, used her, and accepted her, all at the same time. He admired her and envied her and hated her because she was better. Almost as good as Konzan. They were all cold, but her ice was flawless because it was something she had done all her life. He struggled for the cold. For her, it was effortless, a part of her. With time, she knew, she would surpass Konzan as well. Konzan admired her, because he was unchallenged leader, and would be until he died; Haruka hated her as well because she was a threat.

Haruka was the heir, but leadership was likely to go to the best in the pack. And she was the best. At the very least, better than he was. So no matter what she said or did, she was a threat to him. She really didn't care. She had no ambition to speak of. But he thought she was a threat, all the same. Still, he had to accept her, because his father had accepted her, and she was the best they had. He would be a fool to try to cast her out.

It was no secret that Haruka hated her. Secrets were not allowed. But they never spoke of it.

He always tried to show her up, tried to find a weakness in her ice. That's why he always watched her—he hoped to catch a secret and use it to turn the minds and allegiances of the others in the pack against her. She also thought that's why he had started to have sex with her—so that he could use her own body against her, too. But it didn't work. She had lived her entire real life with them; she had nothing that they didn't know of. She had no deep dark secrets. She wasn't even sure what privacy was, and the lack of it had never bothered her. It was certainly no secret that Haruka slept with her. But no one brought that up, either.

_My life is simple. Take care of yourself. Keep your skills and weapons sharp. Kill your targets. Collect the money._ And never once did caring ever come into the equation.

Oh, it's not that she was emotionless. They loved her, actually. She laughed with them, talked with them, listened to them, sympathized with their losses and soothed their fears. She was everyone's best friend—and in return for her friendship, they left her pretty much alone and let her do her work. It was just that she didn't actually care about any of them. In reality, she didn't care about anything.

Some might say it was a calamity. They would shake their heads, and sigh, and feel pity for her. Some might even wipe away a tear. Such a shame, they would sigh, isn't it such a tragedy to be seventeen and have no future?

She would have shrugged in reply. She didn't notice. She didn't care enough to.

- - - - -

"And what is this?" Konzan demanded when he saw the child carried like a sack of potatoes under Shidori's arm. "The job was to kill all of them, and you don't just leave the brat alive—you bring her back?" Konzan's own child looked with interest at the scene from his place at his father's feet.

"Ain't no ordinary child, Konzan-sama," Shidori replied. "Got potential, she does—" and he unbundled the child and threw her at Konzan's feet. She rolled to her knees.

"Up, brat." She stood. "Look at me," he commanded. She met his gaze, but only because the ice told her to. She couldn't pick out individual words through the clanging echoes his voice formed when they hit the ice.

Her cold, predatory gaze made Konzan smile involuntarily. Oh, he could_use_ her. Here was a person suited for the pack! A true assassin. Put the blade in her hand, and she'd do the rest herself._Look, she even brings a weapon—how cute._

"All right, Shidori," he growled, a feral gleam in his eye and approval in his tone. "I won't kill you this once. But for disobeying orders—you have to care for her. I've no time to deal with brats." A gleam caught his eye, and he looked back at the child. She was still watching him. "Well?" He demanded. "What do you have to say for it?"

"Ice," she whispered, voice so soft that even she couldn't hear herself. Maybe the wind had taken her voice instead of her blood.

"Speak up, child," Konzan snapped.

"Ice," she said again, voice audible but still soft, high and wavering. A child's voice. A child of seven becoming a woman of fifty. Big eyes unseeing, their innocent light fading. A mouth that once smiled with a child's gaiety would never truly laugh again. "Only ice."

- - - - -

She named herself Koori. A fitting name for her, they all agreed, since it was the first word they had ever heard her say. Her first name was Koori, and her last name was Ikazawa, because that was Shidori's last name, and he was as close to a father figure as she was going to get. They would have let her keep her old name, but she couldn't remember what it was.

She had joined the assassin group Zan, a little-known assassination group that lurked in the darkest, most obscure side corners of the underground. They were reliable, quick, and rapidly rising. Soon, Konzan thought, they might even be one of the best.

That was ten years ago, and Konzan's idle thoughts were reality. They received lots of jobs, and they had a sparkling reputation, considering that they were assassins. And one of the reasons that they were so good was because they were very, very secretive. Once you joined, you couldn't leave Zan until you died. That's why Shidori was drunk more often than not. He was too old to be a good assassin. But he couldn't leave Zan, and he couldn't do anything else. But that was his problem to deal with._He'll probably commit suicide sooner or later. He hates his life anyway._ She stared at the edge of the blade, how it shone in the firelight.

Some might think it was horrible of her to think such things about the one who had taken her under his wing and taught her nearly everything she knew. She would have shrugged at that too. "Only because Konzan had told him to," she would have replied. And besides, death was a part of life. It's what happened to you when your life wasn't worth anything. And if he didn't commit suicide, well, then, Haruka would probably send her to kill him. Drunkards weren't very good at keeping secrets, and Zan had no intention of being revealed to anyone whom they had no business with. He had no worth to Zan. Besides, she reasoned, he was useless now; death would just make him permanently so.

- - - - -

"So, child," Shidori began as he sat down with her before a warmly roaring fire, "let's see that sword of yours." She gave it to him. He unsheathed it and examined it from all angles. Truly a fine piece of work, and in near-perfect condition. The blade had no rust, the edges were finely sharpened, and the black-and-white braiding on the grip was elegant, yet simple. It was a wakizashi, short enough to be easily hidden, but long enough to be useful in a close range fight. "This is good, but you'll need a long-range weapon. Close range is for ambush; long-range is for sniping, better for an assassin to use—less chance of getting caught. Throwing knives should be good for you, then—" he pulled out a few and gave them to her. They were small, the size of her entire hand, but she was small for a seven-year-old. The blades were clear, and the grips were black. "These, and open hand, I can teach you; Yuji'll have to teach you wakizashi and gun."

"Gun? Shooting? Is that how you killed my father?" She heard herself asking him, her piping voice disinterested. "You shot him?"

Shidori winced. "Well—yes."

She shrugged. "Sure. Teach me. I'll learn."

- - - - -

That was a decade ago, and she most certainly had learned. If nothing else, it was Koori that had made Zan as respected as it was; she was considered the crown jewel of the pack. She really _was_ a natural-born hunter. She had never failed to complete a job, no matter how insane or impossible it seemed.

She finished cleaning her weapons, and stood. _I wonder, _ she thought, as she headed out of her small room in Zan's headquarters towards the main room. _Because maybe if I knew what my first name was, I could remember who I was. Before. But why the hell do I care? _ The ice echoed her thoughts back to her faintly, adding a singing undertone to them. The echo had lessened, but it was still there. She supposed it always would be. The only time it was any different was when she was on a job. Then she was the ice, and instead of echoing it crystallized and sharpened her thoughts and senses.

Nothing matters. _"Only ice,"_ she heard a small voice whisper inside herself.

* * *

Koori: "ice" in Japanese.  
Zan: "slay," in Japanese. Since Konzan founded Zan, and "zan" is the last syllable in his name...yeah. (Yes, it's a Rurouni Kenshin reference. But that's the universe she was originally intended for anyway, so I felt like making it. Don't ask—I'll explain next chapter.)  
Wakizashi: Japanese short sword. Think Katana, but smaller/shorter.

In case I was too subtle for people; Konzan is the present leader of Zan. Haruka is his son, who is next in line to be the leader unless they choose Koori to be their leader instead—which is what Haruka's worried about. What he doesn't seem to understand is that even if they did offer it to her, she'd probably turn it down and let Haruka have it. And YES—Haruka is a very very very obvious reference to the first ending theme of KKJ. But I love that song! And I really like that name, too

Okay, there's chapter two. What do you think? I know I only talked about Koori and Zan this chapter—but next chapter I'll get into plot. The plot's coming, it's coming! Just a little bit longer, I tell you! It'll be worth it, I swear upon my life! And review me, please!

My good friend Valerie is drawing a picture of Koori, and I'm going to post it on my site so if you want to see what she looks like go there and yay. The link to it will be on my fanfiction page, under this fic.

Until next time!

-Windsong windsong 137 at gmail dot com

"I was Jesus before you were God!" -Two squabbling seventh-graders


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three! Sorry this took so long. But….I had this huge four-page storyline written out, and then I LOST IT. T.T And I was looking for it and looking for it and I can't find it anywhere! -cries- I still can't find it! And so I got so depressed I simply refused to work on this story. But…I'm back. Hopefully I can scavenge some sort of storyline here.

Anyways, about that little comment I made at the end of the last chapter: Koori was originally meant for use in a Rurouni Kenshin fic. She popped into my head after I finished the entire Kenshin series in three days by watching it with my friend non-stop. Ah...the memories...I mean, it was a true anime fest—my mother was getting really worried about us because we refused to move from the TV—but I digress. I was going to use her there, but I had no idea what I would do with her in the RK Universe—so I decided to use her in a KKJ fic instead. And now you know. I'm sure none of you cared but now you know ANYWAY! -grin-

Enjoy!

* * *

Icelight  
**Chapter Three**  
_By Windsong  
_Written 20 November 2004 

It had been three months since anything interesting had popped up. Fin flew high over the city, her eyes slightly unfocused as she extended her magical senses in search of any demons. Nothing, nothing, and more nothing—just like yesterday, and every day of the past week, and all of the week before that, and the week before that...

She sighed. _I should be happy that there's nothing cropping up yet, because it means that Maron and Chiaki can get a much-needed break, but—where are they?! I know they've only gotten stronger... _ Her forehead creased in worry. _After all, it was my fault for bringing those demons to the devil and increasing his strength—_

She shook her head violently to clear it of the guilt that was starting to creep up on her mind. _Focus, Fin, focus!_ She thought sternly to herself as she continued to search. _The demons have got to pop up sometime—_

Her magical senses shrilled, sending a wave of prickles down all of her nerves and making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. A wave of nausea hit her stomach as she abruptly pulled up, pulling her magic to her like a questing hand burned in a fire. _Found you!_ Fin thought with grim satisfaction as she calmed her senses as best she could.

"Now, where are you?" she said quietly to herself as she tentatively stretched out her magical senses again, this time gently searching out the demon's hideout. The wave of nausea hit her stomach again, and she fought it off, refusing to pull her magic back. _There, from that building._

She flew closer, noting the building in her mind. It was a dark grey that wasn't the natural color of the stones, you could tell—there were flashes of dull red that tried to shine out from under the choking layer of dirt. It was basically a box, with no outer decoration or molding to accentuate or add to the building's former beauty—and that made it stand out all the more. It was the only unadorned building in the area.

As she flew closer, the nausea subsided, and she began to hear the faintest of whispers in her mind. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to hear—

_"Fin,"_ the voice cooed to her, softly and oh-so-seductively, _"Fin, Queen, it's all the same..."_

Her eyes widened and she tried to block out the whispers, focusing harder on the building, memorizing it before flying closer.

The nearer she flew, the harder she focused, the louder, more insistent, more attention-grabbing the whispers grew. _"Fin, come back..."_

Her face settled into a hard look. "Focus, Fin!" she whispered desperately to herself, flying still closer. _I have to see what it's possessing— _ she flew still closer, almost able to see through the windows. She focused her magic on the building as she did a slow search. No demon would be able to hide from her for long—

The whispers demanded more and more of her attention, and it began to try to touch her magic, cling to her soul. _"He misses you..."_ the voice purred.

_No!_ She cried out in her mind. She was so close, but she couldn't fight it off forever, with her attention so divided—

_"Yes, beautiful Queen,"_ the low, sensuous whisper rang through her mind, _"there was never one such as you..."_

_There! _ She flew as fast as she could to the other side of the building, where the demon lay hidden. _Go away!_ She yelled in her mind.

_"Never a fallen angel that reveled in her darkness as much as you..."_

She could feel her magic starting to reply to the seductive call, and in a blind panic she flew faster. _I have to finish! I'm so close—_

There was a flash of dark, inky purplish-black that nearly blinded her. She cracked open her eyes, and she saw a small dagger surrounded by unholy golden fire that had glimmers, flashes of inky black that jumped in and out of existence. Suddenly a figure shimmered into view before it—

Translucent, but nearly the most beautiful being she had ever seen—second only to the devil himself. He smiled at her, a smile full of sensuous promise. _"Come back,"_ the being called to her mind.

She screamed, both mentally and physically; she felt her vocal chords shivering under the violent stream of air she forced through them. She fought off its clingy magic as he tried to embrace her, shadow her soul again— _I will never go back! NEVER!_

Almost surprised by the violence of her reaction, the demon retreated a little. In the sudden moment of respite, she examined the dagger and the surrounding room. The dagger was a truly beautiful piece of work. The hilt was made of deep ebony wood, carved with intricate designs to strengthen the user's grip. But the blade—that was the true beauty of it; made of clear, pale, shimmering crystal that shined even through the veil of dark fire. The room was in depressedly bad shape, like the rest of the building, and it seemed that this single dagger was the only piece of beauty in the entire room. She flew towards the door, and caught sight of the apartment number. _#56,_ she gasped, zooming out the window. Only one thought was left in her mind—to escape.

As she flew away at her top speed, she heard the whisper one last time, so faint it was almost inaudible—_"He loves you..."_

She shuddered.

- - - - -

Koori walked into the bar. Dust lay over everything: the glasses, counter, the TV, the people, the air. It slowly choked the senses and dried the soul. Light was a rare occurrence. Sunlight struggled with all its might to get through the dust-crammed windows, but only a few pale, weak beams eked through. There was no artificial lighting to speak of. The blood-red tiles along the floor were a noncommittal grey through years of shuffling feet, poor maintenance, and dust. The walls were the same nondescript grey color. But people didn't come for light, or color, or even dust. They came to forget their flaws, sorrows, problems. And though the alcohol wasn't the best-tasting, it was powerful, and it did its job. Besides, it was cheap.

_Shidori's favorite haunt nowadays._

One man was dressed a little better than the drunkards, drug pushers, alcoholics, drug runners, and whores who languished on the benches and stools and sprawled on the counter. He sat a little bit away; just enough so that he would know if anyone was coming to pick his pocket. A half-empty glass of spirits sat before him.

Koori sat down next to him. He stirred a little, glaring at her out of one dark green eye, muddy with alcohol and depression. She stared back at him impassively.

He stirred a little more, sitting up until she could discern a head from the bundle of cloth. "Koori-chan?"

"You're still drinking."

The man nodded dazedly, a small movement of his head.

"Konzan told you to stop."

He blinked slowly. "He did?"

"And you didn't."

Shidori shook himself a little, becoming more aware with every second. Although the alcohol dulled his assassin skills, he wouldn't have lived this long if he wasn't able to come out of a drunken stupor. "And now I'm to be punished."

"Let's leave." She grabbed Shidori's arm and helped him up.

"Where to?"

_Somewhere neutral unbugged isolated—_ "How about that park by the river?"

- - - - -

"Have a job for me?" he asked as they walked. He was unable to keep the note of hope out of his voice.

"No. Haruka does job assignments. Been doing it for the last year."

"Then why'd you seek me out? Zan's busy enough that you probably have a job to do."

"Actually, no. They keep me for special cases and hard ones. We've been getting easy ones—idiots who want to kill unfaithful lovers and so on. So I've got a lot of free time on my hands."

"So then why'd you come to see me?"

"Haruka gave me a job."

"And?"

"To kill you."

Pause. A set of footsteps stopped.

"I see."

A boot scraped roughly against the pavement as she spun to face him. "So I came to give you a choice. Either I kill you, or..."

"Or?"

"You do my job for me."

"Either way, your job gets done."

"They always do. Just thought you'd like to have a choice in how you died."

Shidori looked at her with sad eyes. "I guess I can't ask for pity or play on our relationship to save my life."

"Afraid not."

"Well, how about you give me three days. If I'm not dead by then, you go after me."

"I've got a deadline." She examined his face impassively, with a hint of sadness in her eyes to mirror his own. Inside there was only ice, but she was too used to acting like she cared around Zan members to slip out of the part. "You've got until tomorrow night."

Shidori's voice trembled. "Well, it was nice knowing you. I'm glad you've done so well."

She could hear his thoughts. _I taught you, saved your life, and you do this to me_

She continued to watch him. The ice made his thoughts ring, bell-like, as they echoed. "I'm glad to have known you." The words sounded hollow. She didn't mean them. But there were such things as common courtesy.

Shidori bowed low to her, then turned and walked away.

_I'll see you tomorrow night._

* * *

HAH! I finished chapter three! -cackles- Short, but there was a reason for it—the next chapter will be nice and long. 

Ja!

-Windsong - windsong 137 at gmail dot com

"But I don't want to eat my brain!" -Michelle


	4. Chapter 4

I FOUND MY OUTLINE! -runs around, screaming happily- Now I can write this fic with no worries! …Not like I'm saying chapters will come out any faster, of course. At least you know this fic won't be dropped! Woo!

Disclaimer is what it always is. Koori, Zan, Haruka, Shidori, Konzan, and anyone else that might pop up that's not in the original storyline are MINE. Do not use them without my express permission, in writing, no less. Nothing else is mine. Avi's been sleeping on the job lately; I keep forgetting to add disclaimers…then again, one chapter is like another. Why _do_ we authors keep repeating ourselves? Sigh.

Sayonara: "Farewell"  
Ecchi: "Pervert"  
Gomen nasai: "I'm sorry"  
Anou: "Um..."

Enjoy!

* * *

Icelight  
**Chapter Four**  
_By Windsong_  
Written 18 May 2004 

Ikazawa Shidori stood by the window and drew in a shuddering breath, knowing this was the last sunset his eyes would ever see.

And it was glorious. How the sun ripped the sky apart with its last desperate lashes of flame, making the sky bleed deep purple, glowing orange, blood red; the colors running together, as if God had decided to take his holy hand and drag it across the heavens, smearing all that it touched. How the clouds skittered by much quicker than usual, hurried along by the gentle wind, their soft fluff stained in pastel hues, pale imitations of the rich colors of the endless sky that hovered above them. How the world was strangely silent; the sounds of cars and people heading home somehow didn't reach up to his small apartment—nothing broke the seeming sanctity of this sunset. How the blazing golden orb slipped lower and lower below the horizon, its rays of light lancing across the landscape, weaving elegantly through the tall buildings and bustling streets of Tokyo to reach his eyes, dazzling him. His eyes narrowed involuntarily, but he refused to close them, forcing them to open as wide as they could. His head screamed in pain, but he ignored it; how could he turn away from a sight like this?

He held onto the light as a dying man would hold onto a lifeline; the sunlight _was_ his lifeline. For when it died, he would die as well.

He toyed with the dagger, even as he stared into the sun. Not even the spots dancing crazily across his vision could dim his inner eye, the one that knew this dagger as well as his own hand. He brought it up into the sunlight from where he had been holding it below the window, and the crystalline blade caught the wandering rays of the sun, reflecting golden shards that played along the unkempt walls. Seemingly to counter the unexpected golden glimmers, the shadows that made up the obsidian handle absorbed all the light it touched, jealously hoarding its beauty for itself. The counterpoint had always spoken deeply to his inner sense for truth; how the purity, innocence and light of the crystal opposed the dark, tainted, and jaded hilt—and yet neither one could be without the other.

Slowly, the setting sun edged its way out of sight, leaving the world ruled by shadows. Shidori let his breath out in a slow, controlled stream, his eyes shining in the last rays of sunlight with a mixture of grim determination, aching sorrow, and unnamed terror. The sun sunk still lower, the shadows grew still darker, and Shidori turned the point of the dagger until it was aimed at a point directly under his ribcage, pressing gently against his trembling flesh. As the breath finished leaving his body he quickly drew in another one, as if trying to draw strength from the dusty, still air.

As the sun barely peeked above the sharply delineated horizon, struggling to stay aloft just a little bit longer, Shidori turned away from the window so that the window was to his left, and whispered a single soft phrase: "Sayonara, Koori-chan." A golden shine seemed to envelop the crystal blade in a translucent veil, unnoticed by Shidori's terrified gaze. And as the sun finally slipped below the horizon, he closed his eyes and with a sharp movement thrust the blade into himself.

Suddenly he felt lightning rush through his veins, and when his eyes flew open they blazed a brilliant gold. His muscles seized, and his eyes bulged as his throat closed and he choked. His hands clenched upon the blade, driving it further in and sending bolts of agony through his abdomen, which then raced up to his head and exploded there in a burst of blinding pain.

A figure shimmered into existence before his wide-open eyes, a woman more beautiful and sensual than any he had ever seen. As she changed from transparent to translucent to solid, the golden blaze faded from Shidori's eyes. "Ikazawa Shidori," the woman said to him, her voice a low, feminine purr, "I have a proposition for you."

His muscles loosed, and all pain left him. The air was silent save for his rapid gasps of air. "Who...are you?"

The smile that hovered on the woman's lips was like a cat's luxurious stretch. "You may call me Halifax." Her dark violet eyes glimmered with some unspoken promise. "I have the ability to grant wishes."

"...Wishes?" The pain was starting to creep back into Shidori's consciousness, and he squinted one eye slightly to fend off the pain.

"But, of course, there is a price that comes with every wish. My proposition is this. I will keep you alive for as long as you need—but in return, I am the one that controls your body."

"You would keep me alive? But Koori-chan wants me dea—"

"It is your greatest wish to see Koori again, is it not?" Halifax stepped forward, the waves of charisma she exuded nearly palpable, her low-cut bodice showing far too much. "Once more, before you die?"

Shidori stared with shock into Halifax's eyes, a dark mirror of Koori's own. _How did she know...?_

"Why, I'm an angel, of course. Wasn't it obvious?" Halifax said softly as she stepped forward again, close enough to touch noses with the one-time assassin. After a pause, Shidori nodded, the fear in his eyes all but washed out by wonder and resolve.

"I accept your proposition," Shidori said, his voice bravely trying not to shake.

Halifax smiled slowly as she leaned forward and captured Shidori's mouth with her own. As his eyes widened, he heard her voice ring clearly through his mind: _I am an angel...a fallen Angel. An Angel of death!_

A muffled scream of horror ripped out of his throat before his eyes were filled with tainted golden flames. Halifax's form seemed to lose its solidity and sink into Shidori's until she had completely disappeared, and Shidori crumpled to the floor. A full-throated, victorious laugh echoed faintly through the room to be absorbed by the motes of dust that hovered in the air.

- - - - -

"Ready to go, Jeanne?" The tiny, green-haired angel asked, hovering before the kaitou's serene face. She stood comfortably on top of a rooftop across from their target's location, her long blonde hair whipping around her still form in the brisk wind.

Her eyes betrayed her nervousness when she opened them. "I guess it was too much to hope for, wasn't it? That peace would last forever."

"Humans always hope, don't they?" Sinbad's calm voice said behind her, and when she turned he gave her a small smile. "Come on, let's do this."

Jeanne nodded, and the two of them looked over the edge of the building. Jeanne's brow furrowed in confusion. That's weird..."

"Yeah," Sinbad agreed. "Where are the swarms of police? Didn't our target tell anyone?"

"Maybe the demon hasn't possessed anyone yet?" Jeanne said, voice hopeful, "And the person living there didn't see the notice?"

"We have to go on worst case scenario," Access Time said, his eyes serious for once. "At least there aren't any guards, right? So we only have to deal with the demon."

"So what's our plan of action?" Sinbad said.

"I say we go for the direct approach!" Access yelled as Fin said,  
"I say we use stealth."

Fin glared at Access, who grinned back.

"Why don't we sneak into the building and then go with a direct attack?" Jeanne temporized.

Sinbad smiled at her. "Sounds good to me."

Jeanne and Sinbad jumped down out of the tree and landed silently on the deserted street below, two darker shadows hiding within the shade of the tree. Instantly floodlights snapped on, forcing Jeanne and Sinbad to cover their eyes. Sinbad cursed under his breath softly.

"Caught you this time, Jeanne!" a man cried with unconcealed glee, stepping in their path squarely with a triumphant gleam in his eye.

Fin shared a startled look with Access. "Who is _that?!"_ Access whispered. Fin could only reply with a baffled shrug.

- - - - -

Koori sat in a comfortable chair in a small café near Shidori's house, staring at her coffee cup.

She closed her eyes momentarily, leaning back in her chair as her right hand unknowingly drifted to rest upon the hilt of the Wakizashi hidden under her trench coat. _I'll leave soon. I might as well let Shidori try to kill himself first. He probably won't, but if he does, it makes my job a lot simpler. I don't want to waste any more time than I have to on such an easy kill._

Briefly, she wondered why Haruka would give her such a trivial mission. _He knows that Shidori is an easy target. Even Rikaru could take him down, and Rikaru's hardly trained. Did he give me this job in an attempt to break my ice?_

Her ice rang as her thoughts struck it, in that particular way that told her she had hit upon a piece of truth. _Of course. Well, let him waste his time and energy and patience on impossible tasks. Nothing can break my ice, any more than it can break me._

Her eyes, as enigmatic as the rest of her, for they were a light shade of lavender impossible to fathom, flicked to the window, on the dark velvet sheet sprinkled with diamonds that hung above the city. _Moonrise. When the moon comes, I'll be on my way. I always do my best killings during moonlight._

She wanted his death would be clean and quick—as a former member of Zan, he deserved at least that much. Inwardly, she smiled an ironic smile, although her face remained impassive. _A moonlight killing for one who has lived the past few years drinking Moonshine. How...poetic._

The other people in the café shared nervous looks, and by tacit agreement kept their distance from Zan's premiere assassin.

- - - - -

"I, Hitoshi Sato, will capture the legendary thieves!" the unknown man cried again, as policemen ringed Jeanne and Sinbad.

_Who the hell is this guy? _ Sinbad looked him over with a disparaging eye. The man was dressed neatly, but his brown hair was wild and flew in every direction, and his green eyes were alight with intemperate excitement. Sinbad's eyes filled with disdain. _Oh. A newbie. _Ever since Miyako had declared that she wasn't going to hunt the legendary Kaitou any longer, and Miyako's father retired from the Police Force, Chiaki and Maron had wondered who the police department would dig up next. Evidently...this was the best they could do. _Now that's just sad._

Jeanne and Sinbad shared a quick glance, Jeanne winking and Sinbad giving a knowing smile. Then, before the policemen could blink, the pair of kaitou disappeared as they leaped in opposite directions. "Game Start!" Jeanne cried as she threw her rebound ball at the building, smiling happily as it stuck. Readying for the impact, she landed feet-first on the side of the building and bent her knees to absorb the shock before quickly climbing upwards towards their target's apartment window.

Simultaneously, Sinbad jumped over the guards, landing outside of the ring, and before they could turn and aim, he had leaped again, landing with a skitter on the building's fire escape. It creaked dangerously on his landing, and Access, flying in circles around his head, squeaked "Hurry up!" Sinbad wasted no time in running up the stairs, the rusted metal's angry squeals only speeding his steps.

"Jeanne!" Fin cried in warning, and Jeanne stole a look behind her to see the policemen drawing out guns and aiming carefully at her as Hitoshi yelled orders. With a yelp, she leapt to the side as the guns fired, swinging like a pendulum to the side of the building before beginning to climb upwards. The bullets hit the grey exterior of the building and bounced of harmlessly, sending up puffs of smoke where they hit. "Rubber bullets," Jeanne muttered to herself as she continued to climb higher, swinging from side to side at random intervals to make it harder for them to aim. Then she heard Hitoshi give a new order:

"You idiots! Don't go after Jeanne, go after the string!"

"Fin!" Jeanne hissed worriedly as she climbed faster, unable to dodge the inevitable.

"Climb up to the next window!" Fin said in her high-pitched voice, flying up to the window she spoke of. "Come on!" Jeanne fairly flew up the line. 2 feet...1 foot...3 inches... the gunshots rang out.

The rope severed! Jeanne threw herself upwards, the rope falling below her as she barely managed to grab a hold of the window ledge. As she hung there, she called the rebound ball to her, catching it neatly in her hand when it obeyed. "We don't want to kill her, just capture her," she heard Hitoshi say below her. "Team 2, forward!" Jeanne looked down and saw a group of policemen position themselves below her with a net.

"Jeanne, step on it!" The tiny angel cried, dancing around Jeanne's fingertips where they gripped the ledge. Jeanne began to swing back and forth, gathering momentum as Hitoshi's voice drifted up to her again.

"Aim..."

Finally, Jeanne flung herself backwards and upwards, doing a backwards flip. "FIRE!" she heard Hitoshi yell just as she crashed feet-first through the window, the shards scattering all around her. A white-hot lance of pain stabbed her arm as a bullet grazed her. Then she was in and looked around wildly.

Meanwhile, Sinbad had finally reached the window only to find it locked. He hid from the policemen below by stepping onto the windowpane as they fired up at him. Flattening himself against the dusty windowpane, he felt a sneeze coming on, and desperately tried to stifle it. Access had flown around to the front of the building to open the window from the inside, but who knew if this was going to work? Finally, he let out a muffled sneeze into his sleeve.

Jeanne, evidently, had ended up in a bedroom. An occupied bedroom.

"Kyaaaaa! ECCHI!" Slippers, half-full glasses of water, pillows, and articles of clothing were flung in her general direction as she covered her head and ran for the door.

"Gomen nasai!" she repeated as quickly as she could before she finally opened the door and slammed it behind her, Fin just managing to zoom through the rapidly closing door. Feeling someone ram the door she was bracing herself against, she yelled at Fin, "which direction?!"

"Anou, anou..." Fin frantically looked in both directions. "This is 30...so...that way!" the Angel flew at top speed down the hallway to the left. Jeanne quickly abandoned the door and ran down the hallway after Fin, hearing the door burst open and the woman inside bellowing curses behind them, waking up the entire hallway. Jeanne bit her lip and ran as hard as she could, determined to get off of this floor before she had to harm innocent people.

Access rammed into Fin as she flew into the stairwell, with Jeanne skidding to a stop behind the two angels. "Access! Where's Sinbad?!" Jeanne hissed.

"He's out the window! I have to open it for him!" Access yelled back. In an aside, he said smugly to Fin, "See, we are going for the direct attack."

Fin glared and smacked him hard before turning and flying up the stairwell, yelling behind her, "Fifth floor!" Access and Jeanne chased the green-haired Angel as quickly as they could as the moon rose majestically outside.

- - - - -

As the moon rose majestically outside, Koori got to her feet. _Time to go. _ Dropping a few bills on the table as payment, she left the café with a dramatic (and completely unintentional) swirl of her coat. Trotting lightly until Shidori's apartment building was in view, she was surprised to see policemen milling about the building. _Interesting. _

He heard a yell rise over the confused noise. "Inside as quick as you can! We have to catch the Kaitou before they finish the job!" The voice was almost frenzied. Koori decided that instead of stealth, she would have to go for agility. Tensing her muscles for a moment, she ran towards the crowd at her top speed, diving into the confusion and weaving through it so quickly the policemen doubted there had even been someone there. It wasn't only her speed; she ran lightly through the crowd, dodging around people and yet never missing a step or slowing in the slightest. Nor did she touch any of the policemen; she barely stirred a coat or grazed a shoulder before she was suddenly at the entrance. When she reached the other edge of the crowd, going up the stairs, she had her throwing knives out and ready. As the leader of the pack saw Koori run ahead of him and opened his mouth to cry an alarm, she turned to look at him over her shoulder—and suddenly the man found a blade in his throat, sunk up to the pure-black hilt. Gagging, he fell backwards onto his companions behind him, and the momentary confusion gave her enough time to continue running up the stairwell and disappear.

_And who, exactly, are these 'kaitou'? A rival assassin group? Perhaps Haruka didn't trust I could finish the job._ The ice hummed with mild contempt.

- - - - -

When Jeanne's feet hit the fifth floor, she didn't need anyone to tell her where to go; she could feel the demon's presence from the third closed door on the right, more powerful than any she had ever felt save Myst, Noin, and Queen themselves. Without a thought she ran towards the door, passing Fin without a second thought.

Fin, on the other hand, was paralyzed in the air, fighting the darkness that tried to consume her mind.

_"Come, Fin, come in...he's missed you so much..."_

So locked in her mental battle was she that the tiny Angel couldn't even scream a warning to her kaitou. Jeanne burst into the room with Access not far behind. While Access flew without hesitation into the room at the right, Jeanne was confronted with an older man, whose eyes blazed with that particular golden fire that meant only one thing: demonic possession. The man's clothing was ripped as if a knife had stabbed him. There was blood around the ripped area, but the wound seemed to be healed, and a large amount of golden-black fire was concentrated there.

Shidori gave a slow smile. "I've been waiting for you." Shidori threw out his hand and Jeanne was slammed backwards, out of the apartment and into the wall across from the door. Unable to control the contact, the wind was knocked forcibly out of her with a sharp squeak, and she slid down the wall to sit at the floor of the wall, dazed.

A throwing knife suddenly found itself buried in Shidori's hand as Sinbad ran into the adjoining room. Shidori hissed, pulling the knife out of his hand and tossing it aside as he turned to look at the new threat. Jeanne grabbed her ribbon, measuring out a length and hurling it at Shidori. The ribbon was like a whip, snapping out at Shidori's face, and as the blessed ribbon touched Shidori's flesh he howled in pain, stumbling backwards.

"You...you're in my way! I won't let you have it! I have to see her!" He gasped as he pulled a throwing knife out of a forearm sheath, throwing it forcibly at Jeanne. She dived to the floor, yelling, "Sinbad, find it!"

_Fin said it was a dagger of some kind... _ extending his magical senses, he sensed a wave of negative energy from the room behind Shidori. _Figures. _ He decided to slide along the wall while Jeanne distracted him. And distract Shidori she did, flicking out her rebound ball (it always had more thread) towards him and grabbing his arm. With a snarl, he ran at her, throwing out a rope of negative energy to trap Jeanne. Quickly, she let go of the rebound ball's rope and grabbed her ribbon, twirling it around herself in a perfect gymnastics move and breaking the ropes the holy ribbon hit._Come on, Chiaki..._

Sinbad broke into the room, finding the object the demon was possessing: a beautiful dagger, with an onyx hilt and a clear blade made of faultless crystal. It was nearly impossible to see through the strong golden flames, threaded through with black, that surrounded it.

The air between the Kaitou and the possessed object shimmered, and a beautiful, voluptuous woman appeared. "Kamikaze Kaitou Sinbad," the woman purred, "Why don't we strike a deal? I only wish to help those less fortunate than us. This man has a simple wish: to see his beloved surrogate daughter again. Won't you grant a dying man his final wish?"

"Any wish you grant is tainted with the lies of Satan," Sinbad stated coldly, a black pin appearing between his forefinger and middle finger.

The woman sighed. "Very well—" with an ear-splitting roar, she transformed into her true self, a flashing creature of golden-black flame, and rushed towards Sinbad, fanged mouth open and clawed hands curled.

The kaitou rolled to the side, casting the pin in the same motion, and cried, "Checkmate!" The demon stopped its charge and screamed as Shidori's body snapped rigid, the demon's influence leaving him. The black pin sucked in the golden fire, indomitably drawing the demon towards itself. It gripped the floor, desperately trying to crawl towards Sinbad. With a cold look, Sinbad stood and threw two throwing knives at the demon's hands, and the metal made it scream in pain and release its grip. When the demon was entirely sealed, the pin turned into a chess piece; a black bishop. The kaitou stepped forward and snatched the piece out of the air before it could even begin its downward descent towards the ground.

With a pleased smile, Chiaki left the room. Shidori was staggering to his feet, clutching his stomach as Jeanne helped him up. "Sir, we have to get you to a hospital—"

And then Koori appeared. There was no other word to describe it. One moment the open door let in the weak fluorescent lighting from the hallway, and the next moment the room was thrown into darker shadow as Koori blocked out the light.

For a moment, kaitou and assassin stared at each other. Sinbad saw a young woman, probably around 17 or 18, wearing a black trench coat over an ice-blue tank top that reflected the small amount of light that filtered in, black shoes perfect for stealth, black gloves and simple, loose black pants. Her hair was cropped short around her ears, a blue so dark near the roots it was virtually black, shading to an ice-blue near the tips. But it was the eyes that grabbed him, those eyes that gazed at him with the fearless confidence only the most lethal hunters possess: the look that tells you quite clearly _You are prey. You are __**my**__ prey._ Sinbad stood frozen by the look in those ruthless eyes.

In the next moment, Koori had pulled the Wakizashi free from its sheath with a nearly silent hiss and began to run towards what some would have called her surrogate father, blade in position for the first and final killing blow.

Jeanne cried out but too late; Koori had already neatly taken the man's head off with a single clean swipe. The kaitou's horrified eyes met Koori's and Jeanne was taken aback; _Crystal purple! _ her mind cried—that same illogical phrase. She recognized this girl. She had seen this girl before. It was the same one who had knocked her over in the street.

Blood splattered onto Jeanne's pure white outfit and decorated the assassin's cheek with a crimson smear. It splattered onto her coat but it was easily soaked in by the cloth and left no mark. The kaitou cried out in horror, and let the headless body go to fall upon the ground with a wet, sickening thud that almost covered the softer thud made when Shidori's head hit the floor. "Oh my God!" Jeanne shrieked, backing into the corner, her mind reeling in shock.

"HEY!" Sinbad yelled and tried to block her way. Without pause Koori leaped over his head; as she flew over him, Sinbad grabbed the girl's leg firmly, trying to drag her down. Before he could even do more than get a light grip on Koori's leg her other leg slammed into the other side of his head, stunning him. He released his hold and fell to the floor as she turned the momentum of her landing into a handspring and crashed through the window to disappear into the night.

Access had been going nuts over Fin, who was still shaking near the stairwell. When the two angels heard Jeanne scream, their heads snapped up simultaneously and they zoomed towards the scene of horror. Stopping to look at the scene with shocked eyes, Access Time came to his senses first and yelled, "Jeanne! Sinbad! We have to get out of here before the police come!"

Sinbad shakily got to his feet, driven by the urgency in the black-winged Angel's voice, and went over to Jeanne, whose eyes were still blank with shock. "Jeanne. Jeanne! Come on, snap out of it!" He shook her, but still got no response. "Maron!" he said finally in desperation, and she jumped, her eyes refocusing. "Come on, Jeanne," Sinbad said, helping her up. Together they ran to the room closest to the fire escape and ran down its rickety steps until they were low enough that they could jump down with the least amount of noise. They waited until they had ran a short distance away before they came out of their transformations. The second Maron could see Chiaki's darker blue hair she dissolved into tears in his arms. Quietly, he held her as the moon shone, pure and silver, above them.

- - - - -

Koori walked into Zan's headquarters as the moon set. Konzan remained seated, but Haruka got to his feet and said with nervous arrogance, "Well?"

She stopped before Konzan and bowed low, addressing him instead of his son. "Ikazawa Shidori is no longer in the land of the living, Konzan-sama."

"I am glad to hear your mission went successfully, Koori," Konzan said quietly, nodding to her. "You are dismissed."

"Thank you, sir." She straightened and strode out of the room, heading towards her own.

Konzan turned to Haruka. "It was cruel of you to give her that mission."

Haruka glared at his father. "You said I would have full control over who got what mission. Well, I decided that it was of utmost importance to Zan that Ikazawa-san be killed beyond a shadow of a doubt. Do you disagree, father?"

"It was still cruel. We members of Zan are not cruel without necessity." He fixed Haruka with a calm gaze. "It would do you good to remember that. You, too, are dismissed."

Swallowing a curse, Haruka bowed to the leader of Zan and headed to his own room. _One day, Koori,_ he hissed in his mind. Suddenly, a wicked smile spread across his face, and he stopped dead in the hallway.

Koori, meanwhile, was preparing for bed, moving through a slow, graceful, well-practiced routine. As she laid her Wakizashi gently on the bed, tossing her trench coat carelessly onto the single chair in her room, she thought, _So...those were the legendary Kamikaze Kaitou of Tokyo. How odd that they would be paying a visit to Shidori. I wonder why..._ She felt the ice rising in her mind, a swift warning, and quickly stopped her train of thought before it could go too far, wriggling a little to slip into her sleep-shirt. _No. I don't wonder why; not at all. It's none of my business._

Once she finished changing, she sat on her bed and picked up her Wakizashi, examining the hilt of her blade. It was as sharp as always, despite having gone through Shidori's spine and severing his spinal cord. She stared at the blade and for the briefest of moments felt a lump in her throat before it was gone, almost like it had never existed.

_It was just another job, she thought carelessly. It's not like the old man meant anything to me anyway. _ With those calm thoughts, she set her Wakizashi in the stand she had built for it next to her bed, slithered between the covers and closed her eyes.

Eyes which opened again in the next moment, when the door to her room opened with a quiet squeak, framing...Haruka.

"Care for some...play tonight, Koori?" he asked, his voice trying to be sexy and just coming out nervously arrogant, same as always. "Or perhaps you're just too distraught over the death of your surrogate father?"

Koori sighed silently, feeling her thoughts chill as the ice enveloped her; she knew a trap when she saw one. She let the ice guide her through this trap, as it had always guided her. "Always, Haruka-san," she said calmly; not entirely cold, but not overjoyed, either, feeling her voice ring madly inside her head like possessed church bells.

Haruka laughed low and moved towards her, stripping as he went. Koori sighed again, trying not to be overly bored. She didn't care for the dance she danced with Haruka, but it wasn't like she had a choice.

_Besides, she thought,_ barely understanding the ideas through the clattering echoes, _Shidori didn't mean anything to me. If anyone raised me, it was the ice; it has saved me and taught me more than anyone ever has, given me more than anyone ever could._

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

There's chapter four. WOW that took me a really long time to write... I usually write pretty quickly, but this took me like 5 hours. Meep. 

I don't really have anything to say, except that I apologize for the graphic-ness. I'm really not one of those people that goes in for blood and gore, but I feel like it's necessary for this story so you can truly see Koori's cold apathetic attitude towards the horror and violence she wreaks.

Ja mata ne!

-Windsong - windsong 137 at gmail dot com

"Wish upon a star...but do you know what stars are?" -Down, Something Corporated


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